The war had been won through Shepard's sacrifice, and the many worlds whose fates had been in the Commander's hands had rejoiced for days afterward.
Of course the Normandy's crew had been repairing the ship, preparing it for a journey back to Earth where they could once again join a fight they believed still continued. Through the engineering expertise of Tali, Adams, and EDI the Normandy managed to divert all unnecessary power (kinetic barriers, communication modules, the CBT, etc.) to enhance the powerful mass effect fields that sustained FTL travel. So when the Normandy finally limped back into the Sol system, it was a surprise to all of her crew that the Reapers were no longer a threat. Instead Shepard's surviving crew found themselves swept up in a massive celebration where medals and gifts and thanks were showered upon them.
All races offered their cultural congratulations, simply because all races recognized Shepard's crew as the arm with which Shepard had used to defeat the Reapers and secure salvation for the galaxy. While their beliefs were certainly true, not one crew member accepted this truth. It was a wonder; therefore, when the galaxy watched Shepard's crew accept each of their medals with anything but enthusiasm:
James Vega who had once been so quick to jokingly accept all credit for his participation in the Reaper war fidgeted uncomfortably when Admiral Hackett placed a delicate, gold medal around his throat. Later and off camera he gently placed the medal on a small tomb that served as a marker for the crash site of the Citadel.
"Never was one for gold, Lola. This would have looked better around your neck any day." The soldier chuckled, taking a long look at the thousands of buildings that had been reduced to rubble. "Wish you were here right now, see the mess you made."
Vega kneeled, deposited a piece of smooth, aluminum metal into his pocket and surveyed the lonely grounds. He didn't look back when he walked away, because sometimes, he figured, some things just weren't worth the view.
Liara and EDI were straight-faced at the ceremony, neither the Shadow Broker nor the self-aware AI gave any indication of relief, or happiness. It was assumed silver EDI would give no emotional gestures, but it was quite unnerving for every race to see Dr. T'soni as robotic as her artificial friend. She had loved Shepard. And while she had once bemoaned her mere 100 years as too youthful, it now seemed too old.
Kaiden and Joker both accepted the Alliance's congratulations with the indifference of a weathered solider and a pilot who, for a short time, seemed to have run out of jokes. When the congratulations had been offered and their day had finished, both made their way to the nearest resuscitated building where hard alcohol was served. They didn't talk all night, just drank, and drank, and drank. Kaiden had always known he wasn't the life of the party, never cared to be one, but that night he wished he was. Wished he could lose Shepard's face, the face he had once-no, still loved, in a sea of faces he didn't care about, and finally lose the pain he was carrying with him now. The pain that was so much greater than any migraine his L2 implants could cook up. So when neither migraine nor party was presented he took another long swig, grimaced at the taste, and refilled his glass to full.
Joker was in the same state, eyes ahead, yet glazed. So much he had wanted to say to her, to apologize for, to give her crap for, and to thank her for. He wouldn't be flying anything tonight, or tomorrow, he realized, his ship had crashed when the Citadel had and it would be a long time before he could make repairs. A long time.
When the light flashed on her helmet, Tali was glad she had something covering the glow of mournful eyes. She accepted everything – the thanks, the medals, the honors with amicable and diplomatic replies. The Admiralty Board unofficially afforded her the highest rank; her suggestions and advice were met with Quarians stumbling over how fast they could implement her plans. Xen and Garrel, usually the most stubborn and quick to refute anyone, now gave their utmost respect to Tali. And while the young Quarian appreciated these new perks, she often looked over her shoulder. Her father had cast a big shadow. Shepard cast an even bigger one, because, after all, there was Rannoch and a Geth alliance that testified to that. Tali simply wished she could measure up to her friend's colossal example, but most of all she found that shadows and shades were one thing, Shepard was another. All she wanted was her friend. Because without Shepard, "Keelah sa'lai" had no more meaning, Shepard had been her home for a while. It had just taken her death for Tali to realize it.
Garrus Vakarian was absent from the festivities, the Primarch had personally seen to it that his Turian comrade didn't have to pretend to celebrate. He let the former C-Sec officer find solace in the comfort of Turian vessels that needed calibrating, weapons that needed cleaning, shuttles and tanks that needed repairing. And of all the soldiers that came to congratulate, encourage, or cheer up Archangel, only one didn't turn away from the despair that haunted the older Turian's dark and shadowed eyes.
"Heard you were shipping out to Palaven tomorrow." Wrex casually stated, leaning heavily on the hard lines of the Turian Cruiser.
"Yeah, received word from my family." Garrus replied in monotone, carefully checking, and then re-checking the firing algorithms of the Javelin missiles.
"Not staying for the funeral?"
"No need, already said my goodbyes." Garrus grunted. His mandibles vigorously fluttering on either side of his cheeks as he glared at his console.
The Krogan Battlemaster carefully watched his old friend, noted the heaviness that surrounded his aura, the sadness. "Y'know I never knew what she saw in you. Thought Shepard could have done better."
"Heh, thought you Krogans liked a man with scars."
"Yeah, well, that's what they say." Garrus finally looked at Wrex, noted the new scars, the open wounds, the cracked armor.
"Why are you here, Wrex?"
The Krogan gave a heavy shrug, "Thought you might want to talk."
"Well, I don't. You can go now."
"Figured you'd say that, but I thought this might grab your attention." Wrex lifted his omni-tool to reveal a recorded projection of several Reapers in orbit, all of which seemed to be making repairs to the Mass Relay. Garrus watched, stunned. "Seems all of 'em are across the galaxy, repairing Relays, cities. They're saying it's 'cause of Shepard. Saying they're here to bring peace, rebuild, a lot of Krogans are disappointed." Wrex gave a throaty chuckle, watched Garrus struggle with the information.
"Why?" Garrus finally asked, shuddering.
"The humans say it's 'cause she sacrificed herself to save all of us. Make sure our future could be rebuilt, give all of us a home. But, you know what I think?" Wrex didn't wait for an answer, "I say she sacrificed herself for you, Vakarian. Made damn sure her favorite, dumbass Turian could live in a better world. And I wanted to make sure you didn't waste it."
Garrus swallowed, "Waste what?"
"Her sacrifice." He left after that, didn't know what else to say. When Shepard had silently requested him to make sure Garrus didn't do anything stupid, Wrex had known what she was really asking. Because even then Shepard had known she wouldn't survive, and even then she had wanted to make sure Garrus had a friend other than her to look out for him. The old mercenary snorted, "Damn woman always did want me to do the toughest jobs." Momentary lapse of sadness gone, Wrex made his way down into the rubble, resisting the urge to pull his shotgun on the Reaper that had just descended to pick up a piece of the broken Citadel.